The Fruit of the Tree
by devilberry
Summary: "The serpent deceived me, and I ate." Vincent convinces Ada to sin.


_Adam and Eve were the original man and woman. They lived together in Paradise, until Eve betrayed God's word and ate the Devil's Forbidden Fruit after being enticed by a serpent._

_(This fic contains religious themes. I am **so **sorry if offends anyone, for that was not my intention. There's also non-graphic heterosexual sex, and some dark imagery. Usually I'm not this paranoid [for lack of a better word] about warnings, but I really don't want to upset anyone with the Adam/Eve idea here. Also, I've kind of never written het before...so my apologies if it's terrible.)_

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She took of its fruit, and ate.

Eve fell for the Devil.

That's how the story goes. She disregarded God, disregarded her husband, and indulged herself.

She opens her eyes. They shine emerald as she looks into the bi-colored eyes of this snake. This demon. Her new savior.

Teeth gleam white as he smiles down at her. Small and fragile and lost. Like a sheep without a Shepherd. _The lamb of God,_ the snake smiles, licking his lips.

(But what the story doesn't say, is that the Devil fell just as hard for little Miss _Original Sin_.)

He brings her close, brushing his pale lips across her ashen neck. Kisses litter and stain white flesh.

And as his fangs enclose around her, how could he not have fallen in love? He lives to sin. To kill and destroy and indulge. Catering to his sicksick desires (_oh, big brother...)_ above all else. Naive and soft and sweet and so very malleable; the embodiment of her gender. How disgustingly _easy_ it is to taint her. One hard redgold glare and he's underneath her skin. Inside her head, shaking her blonde hairs silly. (And though they share a hair color, Ada's—_Eve's_— is so much more...golden. Bright, shining. Vincent's is just yellow.)

Everything about her is so simple. One dimensional (maybe two—a dimension for her morbid interests), plain. _White_, _like the snow that frames crimson so gorgeously,_ he hisses in his head, smiling, _or the color of these sheets,_ and he lays her down. Spreads her out, like an angel or a saint. Splits her arms and pins them down, _ifonlyIhadnails_, he thinks, but shakes his head. _Scissors are so much more useful, _as he snipsnipsnips her ballgown, letting it roll off her shoulders and onto the bed beneath her.

He presses his lips to her's, drinking in the salvation he's found there. If Satan can destroy Eve—damn her to Hell and drown her in Sin—she can at least save him. If only a scrap of his soul can be redeemed by the God in her mouth, that's enough.

He holds his scissors over her heart, the butcher knife to her lamb. Ready to sacrifice blood for his new God, but decides better of it. Doesn't want to dissect his little angel, scar her. Not yet, at least.

Sometimes, he loves her. Wants to hold her—kiss her, maybe. Emotions he's not used to swell inside him, rage like a storm. When he sees her face, soft and cherubic, little green emeralds glistening at him. _"Vincent-sama," _she'll coo, this bright eyes. He'll frown and try not to let her glowing disposition blind him.

(Certain species of snake don't even have eyes, didn't you know? They were built to resist Eve's charms. Our sweetsickstupid serpent is not so lucky.)

Vincent's never believed in anything, but when baby lips part and—_ooh_, he's certain he can believe in that.

He's got his arms wrapped around her tight, squeezing her lifeless like a python, purple pains stain her hips, and was that a noise of pain or pleasure...?

And what's the point, anyway? What did the snake gain from giving the girl an apple? He got to spit on God. Got to laugh in the Almighty's face as he smirked and smiled and laughed and laughed and laughed. _Desire will always win over what's right. Always._ But was it...fair? To take down this sweet little Goddess in the process of trying to break away at God's unbreakable armor?

With her bones smashed against his so intimately, _frankly my dear, I don't give a damn._

He doesn't even have to cut her open to dissect her. She spreads herself out for him. Tears out her insides and waves them like a flag. _"Vincent-sama, this is my heart,"_ and her eyes are so big and glassy as she squirms and he moves and moves, _"you can have it if you want it."_

If he had half a conscience, he wouldn't be doing this. He wouldn't taunt and tease and _seduce_ the weak little creature. With the sparkling emeralds and the hair made of gold and skin of ivory and heart of love. (Vincent's eyes are piss and blood, and his heart is made of shit.) He bites her neck, mutating the skin there to match the darkened flesh of her hips (bruises and bitemarks, it's all the same tragic story). He hisses psalms into her ears when he thinks she's not listening. _"You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil." _And Eve (Ada? Adam?) will smile and moan and let his hands race up her sides, knowing that this feels too good for it not to be sinful.

(And if this delicious Forbidden Fruit is so wrong, who wants to be right?)

Faster and faster and _faster_—and they're spiralling downwards. Nowhere fast, and loving it. Every bitekisslicktouchfuck buries them that much deeper. Into the fires of Hell. Vincent doesn't mind too much, poisonous fangs grinning whenever they're not sinking into Ada's soft skin. She's nervous and awkward and only semi-aware of her deep dark secrets as she eats the fruit, bite by bite, without showing it too deeply. She loves this demonic snake, and he's excellent at pretending he loves her back.

She knows he loves her, somewhere. Eve, being the first woman, was also the first temptress. And she presses her lips to the inside of Vincent's wrist, sucking the purpleblue veins because she knows this.

The miserable dance comes to an end, and they're both sticky with sweat and spit and fluids and _not_ blood, and shit. The blonde angel has him. She's a demon—fucking wicked—and it's too late. She ate the apple, but Vincent grew it. Planted the seed, grew the tree, watered it, loved it, and offered it to her when it was _just_ perfect. Blood, sweat, and tears went into the fruit's shiny red skin, and she closes her lips around it. Crunches her teeth around its flesh, tears it open. Devours it.

Smiling with her big doll eyes, she looks at him. Out of breathe and looking utterly debauched with her apple red cheeks and abused lips, she grins.

_"I love you, Vincent-sama."_

And how could he not have fallen in love?


End file.
